Silver Foam (2)
Three days later, twenty-four executives from the Union were set to visit Paradise. That included the top four leaders, led by Ham Seong-hoon, along with twenty high-ranking officers, each bringing twenty guards—a total of 480 escorts.
The twenty high-rankers were all people who'd come to pay their respects to me after joining the Union. Unlike the smaller warlords, Han Seol had pointed out they were substantial figures, so it made sense to greet them personally. We'd exchanged brief hellos after deciding on the Seonghun Merchant Association and the Silver Foam subjugation.
The first thing I thought we needed to do after settling on the Silver Foam hunt was introductions. They'd joined the Union, which meant they were all my subordinates now, but the bonds in this fledgling organization were still loose. The old Odujeong crew had fought the Reconstruction Government alongside us and stayed tight—we even exchanged welfare check letters. But the executives who'd joined after the war? Not so much. And the Union Marshal? They rarely saw me, holed up in my base without ever showing my face. No way loyalty forms like that.
You can't order faceless superiors to risk their lives. Even the Reconstruction Government's hardliners had led from the front lines themselves, but I couldn't do that.
When I vented this worry to Han Seol, she suggested inviting all the high-ranking Union executives here. If we couldn't force loyalty through cold charisma or brute force, she said coolly, why not dazzle them with overwhelming wealth? Show them firsthand that crossing the Union—or me—offered zero upside.
We decided to build banquet halls in the Second North Sector and Third North Sector for the 480 guards. Mobilizing every resident, the goal was to throw up decent shower facilities, tables, chairs, and a basic feast setup within three days so they could eat and rest without issue.
We even planned a full course to showcase Paradise's riches. Squeezing out genuine loyalty was a pipe dream—I lacked the skill or charisma for it. So instead, we'd make the cold math undeniable: sticking with the Union was a no-brainer profit.
"Everyone, you must be tired from the early morning trip. Let's start with a bath."
I returned the salutes from the executives and soldiers who'd arrived at dawn, issued them all 18-hour residency cards, and began the tour. The soldiers followed resident guides to the banquet halls, where they could gorge and relax.
I'd agonized over the menu before settling on a buffet. Not a huge variety, but everything was top-shelf—Paradise-grown premium meats and veggies. Especially the hearty beef soup packed with prime cuts; stuff they rarely tasted.
The chefs had pulled all-nighters brainstorming and prepping buffet dishes on short notice.
First up, I guided all twenty-four executives to the bathhouse. Jeong Su-hwan led them in, explained how everything worked, and we agreed to meet downstairs for breakfast once they were done.
On the way, one executive bowed low to me. "Marshal, I've long thought Gangbuk needed to unite like this. With the Republic of Korea government targeting us..."
I clapped his shoulder. "Save the heavy talk for after the bath."
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
This whole script was coded by the Han sisters. They'd programmed every line for every scenario over three days. Without it, I'd have botched it like, "Huh? Oh, really? Uh..."—reeking of zero social experience.
Post-bath breakfast fell to Japanese chef Choi Jang-min and Korean chef Im Jung-gu.
They trickled out one by one, thanking me profusely before Han Seol seated them. We'd hauled in long tables to fill the bathhouse lobby on the first floor. She'd assigned seats too: me in the center, top four execs flanking me, then the rest in protocol order.
Ham Seong-hoon and Hwang Dae-seon sat right beside me.
"Enjoy the bath?" I asked Ham Seong-hoon.
He nodded. "Yes. I'd heard rumors, but this? Beyond imagination. Kim Dae-geon from the shower business might faint."
I planned to invite Kim Dae-geon soon too. The Merchant Association's shower mogul would keel over seeing our facilities.
Once all the executives were seated, fresh and fluffy from proper baths—the first in years—they stared in dazed awe.
I stuck to the script. "Before we eat, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Seo Do-hyun, Marshal of the Union and Lord of Paradise. We should've done this sooner, but things have been busy. I hope today builds real trust in the Union—not just a meal."
Ham Seong-hoon stood as I finished. "Most of you know me, but: Ham Seong-hoon, Chairman of the Seonghun Merchant Association."
He sat; Hwang Dae-seon rose. "Hwang Dae-seon of the Guardian Defense Force."
One by one, they stood for quick intros. I just smiled warmly, nodding benevolently.
Once done, I glanced at Han Seol. She nodded, grabbed her radio, and headed off.
A minute later, chefs and resident kitchen crew filed in with platters, setting dishes before the executives.
"Sss..."
"Ah..."
They gawked at the plates, disbelieving. Only the top four—who'd gotten occasional seafood from me—stayed composed.
"Tuna sashimi. It'll come by cut; tell the waiters if you want more of any."
"Marshal, we'll eat well. Thank you."
"Thank you!"
They snapped to, bowing gratefully.
I picked up my chopsticks first; they dug in.
Surprisingly, they skipped the glistening marbled tuna belly for the soy, vinegar, and wasabi dips first—sampling with chopsticks.
"Hoo..."
"Hm..."
Familiar flavors long forgotten hit them; faces mixed hollow relief and awe.
"Mmm! Wow!"
The first to pop tuna belly in his mouth exclaimed; all eyes turned.
"Sorry! I just... Never dreamed I'd taste tuna this good before dying."
I chuckled. "Plenty more coming. Dig in, everyone."
Every bite drew gasps. Tuna by cut followed, then Im Jung-gu's white rice and bulgogi set. Soon they shoveled like zombies, lost in bliss. The egg-yolked raw beef from the round everyone craved? Extra rounds served.
We wrapped with tea time; smokers hit the lounge, then everyone to the government office.
The banquet hall rang with soldiers' laughter. Residents sweated ferrying food. Spotting me, one soldier bolted up straight; the rest saluted crisply. Solid discipline.
Satisfying. We'd fed them right and flexed our wealth properly.
We'd converted the office first floor into a temp briefing room for three days—beam projector, screen, the works.
Executives seated, Han Byeol entered, stood by the screen, and launched the briefing. Intelligence staffers had burned the midnight oil on this PPT; pro quality.
I was still skeptical, but every other exec was convinced: the Hyunshin Department Store wall breach was a Republic of Korea government false flag.
Han Byeol leaned into that theory. Piecing intel together, the hypothesis went like this:
The ROK Army had formed the 1st Special Awakener Division using Na Hye-won's amplification. Needing a test run, they eyed options. Local warlords were submitting gradually—no need to flex and sour things. Named monsters in Gangnam? Risky if it flopped.
So, eyes on Gangbuk. Provoke a named monster there, claim justification, deploy the division for the kill. Success: prestige boost, win Gangbuk hearts. Fail: base safe.
Han Byeol made it sound plausible.
"Those bastards..."
The execs trembled with rage, eyes burning distrust and hate at the government.
"Next: Silver Foam, our subjugation target."
"Mm..."
Silver Foam pics hit the screen—old ROK military shots.
Han Byeol called it a "variable-form monster," but it was straight-up slime. A massive, silver-glowing slime with a core deep inside. Government troops nearly had it, but failed. Recent eyewitnesses at the department store? Pristine, unscratched.
Grand strategy: Mass Union howitzers and mortars for indiscriminate bombardment. Fighting inside the dark store? Bad odds. Provoke it out first.
Once outside, awakeners hit with everything.
Details aside, core was short war: Im Jui and Lee Seong-guk. Regen too fast; absorb some losses, end quick.
Post-briefing, handshakes all around; they headed out. Op set for 14 days later. Meanwhile, refine tactics, build forward base around the store.
Silver scales post-kill? As Marshal and logistics head, I take 30%; top four get 8% each; rest split among execs. No pushback.
Win or lose, I had one wish: Im Jui, Han Seol, Han Byeol, Jeong Su-hwan—none of them hurt or killed in this Silver Foam hunt.